True Courage
by Jamie's Dream
Summary: Deep inside, that was what he had always wanted, but he was a coward- a coward who didn't want to admit the truth. He didn't like to accept the fact that he also desired to feel the presence of love. *Nominated Twice for the Madrigal Awards*


People have said that to be truly courageous, one would have to be brave enough to brandish a sword with no fear at all or to fiercely pull the trigger of a gun. It's a shame how ignorant some people are to only classify bravery through how much a person is willing to risk. He - for once – actually regarded himself as one of those stubborn most. They never really got to see the true meaning of that word; they never had a chance to dig deep into its true, beautiful definition.

The judge's stare pierced his very soul. The man was waiting for him to comment on the proposal. His hand was rapping against the desk, his cold grey eyes cutting as they settled on the sixteen-year-old boy. The boy lost his voice for a moment there. He wanted to make a hasty decision already and end all the trouble, but it seemed right to contemplate for a while, to think: something he had never done in a long period of time._ What was it that he really wanted? _His eyes seemingly wandered and landed on the woman who took away everything he valued. Her amber eyes glinted with resentment as she caught his stare. Her wrists were cuffed together, and she was standing, yelling at the guards who were trying to hold her still as she flailed and shouted at the judge to let her go. She wanted to be set free. But she didn't deserve any remorse. _She didn't deserve life itself_, he thought. _  
_

After years of sulking in a dark corner – alone and solitary – plotting revenge, the times had taught him what really was more significant than avenging what has already been done. Many times he regretted ever thinking of everything as a joke. When he'd laugh at his sister for her encyclopedic knowledge, when he'd laugh at her words of wisdom, not ever thinking that they could possibly be her last. He treated all of them as puns. She, being who she was, would sometimes counter him with her own attempts at a scathing reply. But soon she lost interest in those pointless arguments, and he just complained and droned on about how it wasn't fun having her around anymore when she acted like that. She didn't shut him out with books like she used to; in fact, she seemed more open towards him. Deep inside, that was what he had always wanted, but he was a coward- a coward who didn't want to admit the truth. He didn't like to accept the fact that he also desired to feel the presence of love.

Little did he know that he'd soon find himself standing in front of her grave, crying out her name and lamenting over everything he had left untended. That had truly been one of the first grueling obstacles of his once carefree life. He couldn't seem to cease the pounding of her last words in his ear: "When your time comes, I know you will be the courageous boy I have always loved." She had left him standing at the threshold of the door that night, never returning ever again. She had sacrificed her life for him that day. She fully knew what awaited her beyond the pitch black.

And suddenly, he couldn't seem to forget his parents too- the very people whom he never had the chance to know because of their early deaths. The fire had consumed them, and it had rid him of the other half of his heart, tearing it in two. He was just a young child back then, whose memory could not be trusted to hold the entire truth. He could never seem to picture them in his mind, and he detested that. He detested everything that he was forced not to do despite how much he aspired to accomplish them - it was his own slow requiem, his funeral. He could never bring himself to mention the mere memory of them, for he would most likely be struck with grief and despair.

They were taken away by the very same cause that took his sister away from him. He only realized how much he needed them when he had to face the world alone. He loathed the solitude that would envelop him from time to time. He had come to know that this was a vendetta he had to do on his own. He thought avenging the deaths of those he truly loved would mend everything – that it would put back together the pieces of his now shattered life. He thought it would declare him as someone courageous. Someone brave enough who could make all these people proud of him for putting their killer in the right place where she, the mastermind behind it all, truly and rightfully belonged: death.

And so he endlessly traveled the world in pursuit of her, eyes ceaselessly scanning the extremities of the world for the murderer. When he finally caught sight of her, referred her to the hands of the authorities and was notified that she would be receiving a death sentence, he didn't know why all the endeavors he had gone through seemed useless to him. He knew that his goal had been achieved, but he didn't fully comprehend why the feeling of victory wasn't present inside his very soul.

He had wanted to immediately approve the proposal then. He had aspired to watch her suffer the consequences of her actions. He had wished to never see her face again. And so he gave a small nod. The judge reached out for the gavel, the very tool that could end the criminal's life. But something started to whir inside him.

Only then, at the last second, was he able to grasp the true meaning of the words his sister had said to him. Only then was he able to see the reason what his parents and sister did.

The three of them paved his way. They died for him, whether they knew it or not, because he still had this lesson to learn. He still had to understand the definition of the word_ courageous_. That was his very own task to fulfill with without help or a companion. He couldn't stray away from the calling any longer.

Deliberately, he stood up from the wooden chair; as he did, a choice he once thought was impossible had etched itself into his mind. He faced the judge. The old man was just ready to slam his wooden hammer against the desk and proclaim the death sentence to be played out, but he had interjected and caused him to cease, fully understanding that he was going against everything he has worked for. He said the words and left the criminal speechless as she quickly ceased flailing her arms out of shock. "I take back my decision…"

_Because to be courageous, one does not have to brandish a sword or pull the trigger of a gun. One only has to think of others before himself. That in itself is the bravest thing anyone can do._

He finally knew what it all meant. Dan Cahill could finally consider himself courageous.

**_

* * *

Author's Note:_**

_So, huzzah and all that. "Jamie has finally posted another story. Let us all hope that it does not suck." _

_It's been a long time since I actually posted a story and yeah… I wrote this yesterday and had it beta'd today by my two amazing betas: Another Artist [Amy] and The Whisper of Wings [Wingsie] ;) Thanks a ton, guys! I enjoyed the feedback you gave me. Ha-ha. I is totally glad that you patched up the mistakes I made. And Wingsie, it is meant to be an internal monologue. _

_Oh, and I would also like to thank the friends I met on FF. I would not like to mention their names because I have a fear that I may forget one of them. This one-shot is dedicated to you guys! All the chocolate chips in the world are all yours. I hope I did not burn your eyes. R&R! _

_"Keep quiet, fat dragon. The fluffy bunny is still sleeping." _

_~Jamie xD_

_P.S. I would like to thank my friend, music4evah, for pointing some things out. Thanks much, Muse. I fixed them.  
_


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